Archive for January, 2009

I need some new workout tunes. Preferably something upbeat that will inspire me to keep running when I feel like quitting. What should my next music purchase be?

I don’t watch a lot of TV. I don’t have cool channels like HBO or Showtime. I don’t have a DVR. Just last summer I watched my first ever episode of The Sopranos on DVD. I finally finished Season Six a couple of months ago. Since then, I have also watched Seasons 1 & 2 of Dexter. What other awesome TV shows should I put into my Blockbuster queue?

I’m thinking of taking up a new hobby. Which one should I choose? A) learn to play guitar B) learn to play drums C) learn Spanish D) learn to shoot a gun (You thought I was going to say stuff like “learn to cook” or “learn to play golf” or “learn to scrapbook” didn’t you? Nope, I’m a rebel maverick).

After my last post, I thought I was pretty much done bitching about the winter weather. Unfortunately for you, I wasn’t.

It took me over an hour to get home last night. A commute which typically takes me about 25 minutes. It didn’t appear as if the roads had even been TOUCHED by the DOT, so I essentially slid my entire way home. My vehicle is not four wheel drive, however it does have traction control which seemed to help. So that was last night. Then this morning, I showered and got dressed, thinking I’d be able to just drive through my snowy driveway and make my way to work. Wrong. There was no way I was going to make it out of or back into my driveway without shoveling it first. Shoveling a driveway isn’t THAT bad, unless you can park three full-size vehicles (maybe four) bumper to bumper in it. I got my workout in for the day, that’s for damn sure.

Although I will say there is one good thing about winter. A friend shared this image with me earlier:

Can you see that? In the snow? Let’s zoom in.

Heh. I am easily amused.

In other news, today is my nephew’s fourth birthday and this week is very special for him.

1) Monday was his INCREDIBLE fourth birthday party. Check out his suit.

The whole family wore suits just like this, I heard. I wasn’t there. They live hundreds of miles away, so I only get pictures, just like every other far-away aunt. Sigh.

2) Today is his actual birthday, which means more cake, cookies, presents, etc. And he should receive his present from us tomorrow. It’s a pretty awesome Transformers toy. I kind of wanted to keep it.

3) Sunday is the Super Bowl which is a very big deal to a boy who is named after one of the teams competing this year (and his name is not Arizona, Cardinals, or Pittsburgh). In fact, he’s a pretty big football fanatic in general. At just 3 1/2, this kid could name every football team in the NFL just by looking at the logo. He is also the first to tell you that if you like any team other than the Pittsburgh Steelers or the Ohio Buckeyes, then your team “stinks.” He’s not afraid. He just tells it like it is. So if you have no allegiance to the Arizona Cardinals, I suggest you root for the Steelers this year. If for no other reason than not making this little boy cry, because if they lose, I’m pretty sure he will. Just sayin’. No pressure.

Seriously. Any “winter lovers” can just stop reading right now, because you will find no love for the brutally cold, sunless season here. And trust me, this is not just me being a pansy and “oh my toes are cold and my skin is dry so I hate this time of year” kind of rant.

No. I can handle cold toes and dry skin. It’s called lotion and socks, folks. What I can’t handle is nature’s effect on my mood in the winter time. Example: When I have a weekend full of possibilities and no responsibilities Winter has this power over me that instead makes me choose to stay in bed because the thought of hibernating under the covers a little longer and watching every single episode of Man vs. Food is suddenly the epitome of comfort and at the time, seems like a perfectly rational way to spend the day. Or the entire weekend. So that’s what I did. ALL WEEKEND.

Let’s cut to the chase. Winter makes me a loser. It grabs a hold of my underwear, pulls it up my asscrack, then dunks my head in the toilet before shoving me in a locker. And it stole my lunch money. So I spend the majority of my time moping around the house in my flannel pajama pants and slippers, without even enough motivation to take a shower. That’s what winter does to me. And I hate it.

Summer, on the other hand, is my BFF. We shave our legs, dare to bare in teeny bikinis (Summer is all about the bikini. I’m more of a tankini type of girl) and frolic to the pool to catch some rays, dive into a great book, and sip on some fruity drinks. We drive around with the windows down, singing at the top of our lungs. Then, at night, we throw on a cute halter top, a flowy skirt, and spend the night socializing with friends until the wee hours of the morning. If one of us starts to feel tired or like we might want to go home, we slap each other on the back and hand the bitch a Red Bull. That’s how Summer and I roll. We’re a team. We have fun together. We’re there for each other. Well, at least until the end of September. Then Summer becomes a total bitch and leaves me for her friends down in Florida. I hear they have pools open all year long and drive convertibles. I don’t blame her, I guess.

So here I am, just me and Winter, hating each other over here. I tell Winter to suck it, and she throws ice rockets at my head. Or worse, she gives me a cold. It’s a fan-fucking-tastic time over here, chillin’ with Winter. And tonight, she told me she has some fabulous plans in store for us – an exciting and titillating drive home in the sleet and snow! I can’t wait.

Summer, if you’re reading this, please come back. A pitcher of margaritas is on me. And I promise we can go skinny dipping, just not in the kiddie pool this time, okay? We almost got arrested for that last year.

I’ve been a little remiss in posting lately, due to the fact that I’ve been meeting with a few recently unemployed friends over food and drinks this week. I’m not really sure why they chose to spend precious job-seeking time with me, considering my best advice usually goes something like this:

Friend: The economy is just awful and the job market is even worse.

Me: Oh I know. I’ve been reading all about it. Here, have a beer.

Friend: Yeah, and my former employer laid me off right before Christmas too.

Today is my day off. Unfortunately, my husband still had to go to work today, but since he doesn’t exactly have an office he needs to go to, we were still able to enjoy the morning together…wake up at nine, have a cup of coffee, helpwatch him pack, and take some time to watch MLK Jr.’s “I have a dream” speech all before he left.

Now it’s just after noon and I have no idea how to spend the rest of my day. Usually, when I’m anticipating a day completely to myself without the husband (which happens maybe twice a year), I start to plan a list of things I’d like to accomplish that day in my head. It’s always unrealistic, like scrub down the entire house, catch up on laundry, make a meal plan, clean out the cabinets/fridge and replinish my shelves, go to the grocery store, get a haircut, paint my nails, hit the gym, drop a box or two of stuff off at Goodwill, catch up on my scrapbooking, groom the dog, finish the book I’m reading, etc.

Apparently I’ve convinced myself that I am Superwoman when no one else is around.

Instead, I will probably go to the grocery store, visit the gym, and call it a night. I don’t want to set the bar too high for my next day off.

How are you spending this lovely MLK Jr. Day? And if you don’t have the day off, tell me what you would have done.

I’ve been to the gym five times in the last five days, and in those five days I’ve somehow managed to GAIN four pounds. Feeling a little desperate when I looked at the scale, I considered taking my clothes off. But then I realized I was already naked. Then I considered trying to use the bathroom, but remembered I had already done that today. Feeling defeated, I realized the only thing left to do was to shave. Every little bit helps, right? Well, not exactly. The additional water in my hair after the shower added another .2 lbs. Though quite disapointing and unfortunate for me, I think it was more unfortunate for the scale. I’m taking comfort in the fact that inanimate objects don’t have feelings…and also that they can’t call the abuse hotline and report you for verbal and slight physical abuse. I swear I only kicked it once!

Anyway, now that I’m back into my gym routine (four pounds be damned!) I’ve been on the look out for the ever-popular Candy. If you weren’t reading this blog back in October, you can catch up on Candy here. Basically, she’s one of those girls that always wears the sexy workout ensemble with a face full of makeup and hair so blonde I could do a load of whites with a strand of her hair in place of Clorox. That’s Candy.

Well, Candy wasn’t there tonight. Instead, there was Bambi. (I apologize in advance if I offend anyone reading this whose name might be Candy or Bambi. These are just my go-to stripper names. I could use a different name if you’d like. Or, you could just change your name, which is really what I would recommend doing because honestly? You have a stripper name.) I had never seen Bambi at my gym before and unlike Candy, she was be-yooo-tiful. Think Vegas stripper rather than East-side stripper. Her butt was toned, her boobs were perfect(ly fake), and her long blonde hair didn’t require me to wear sunglasses when looking directly at it. I found myself thinking all of this as I walked behind her in the parking lot. And after about 30 seconds, I began to feel bad for assuming all skinny blondes with excessively long hair and (possibly) fake boobs are strippers. It’s a horrible stereotype and I should know better than to judge people based on appearances. What the hell is wrong with me anyway?

I climbed in my car, ashamed of myself, and began to back out. That’s when I noticed Bambi placing her gym bag in the trunk of a black Mercedes convertible, which can only mean one thing: Former stripper turned trophy wife to wealthy white-collar exec 20 years her senior. Damn, I would have made a great profiler. CSI? I’m waiting for your call.